


Running Through Your Drawers (Hoping You Would Not Bust Through The Door)

by quietwandering



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietwandering/pseuds/quietwandering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>So maybe Dallon was a bit of a snoop</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Through Your Drawers (Hoping You Would Not Bust Through The Door)

**Author's Note:**

> There's a song by The Brobecks called Creep You Out in which Dallon sings about sneaking into a girl's room and trying on her clothes. Thus, this fic was born. I added watersports just to entertain myself.

_**Running Through Your Drawers (Hoping You Would Not Bust Through The Door)**_  
 **Title:** Running Through Your Drawers (Hoping You Would Not Bust Through The Door)  
 **Author:** [](http://aerogroupie.livejournal.com/profile)[**aerogroupie**](http://aerogroupie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Beta:** [](http://slashxmistress.livejournal.com/profile)[**slashxmistress**](http://slashxmistress.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Crossdressing, watersports, mild desperation, slight dubcon  
 **Pairing:** Dallon/Brendon  
 **POV:** 3rd, Dallon  
 **Summary:** _So maybe Dallon was a bit of a snoop_  
 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Title/cut is from Creep You Out by The Brobecks.  
 **Author Notes:** There's a song by The Brobecks called Creep You Out in which Dallon sings about sneaking into a girl's room and trying on her clothes. Thus, this fic was born. I added watersports just to entertain myself.

  
Okay, so maybe Dallon was a bit of a snoop. He didn’t do it to exploit anyone, just to sate his own overwhelming curiosity. There was a lot to learn about people if you went through their things -- how well organized they were, how they thought about things, what was important to them....what secrets they held.

And Dallon was dying to know all about Brendon’s secrets.

It kinda started last week. Dallon had just gotten out of the shower that morning -- hotel nights were the fucking _best_ \-- and had rounded the corner to see Brendon nervously shoving shit into his bag like there was a fire right under his ass. Dallon asked if there was something wrong, but Brendon just squawked uselessly at him.

Most interesting of all though was the slip of shiny fabric that Brendon just barely noticed before he hastily shoved it back inside his duffel.

So yeah. Dallon was curious. Dallon was more than curious. What the fuck was Brendon so worked up for? Obviously if Dallon waited long enough Brendon would end up spilling everything anyways but fuck patience. Not when he knew where to get his answers.

The only thing he had to wait for was having the bus to himself. That was easily attained a few days later when he claimed he had a severe bout of the runs and was about to die from stomach pains. In no more than twenty minutes the bus was clear of anyone else. They were stopped at a venue, but couldn’t have a hotel till the next night due to overbooking and some other crazy shit.

When the coast was clear Dallon made his way leisurely to the bunk area and shuffled through all the bags. Finally he found the blue one Brendon had been weird about, stuffed towards the back of the storage space above the bunks. Sitting on the edge of Spencer’s bed, Dallon stretched his legs out in front of him and rested the bag on his knees.

This was always the most nerve wracking part -- where he had to actually _open_ the bag. He always got this really thrilling shiver up his spine, and his heart pounded triple time. Every creak and noise around him seemed amplified. It felt like someone was just waiting around the corner to catch him.

Grabbing the top zip, Dallon pulled it down with a quick jerk. Dallon peered in inquisitively to see if he wouldn’t have to rustle through it. All he could make out was a mixed bunch of cotton shirts -- nothing shiny. Not like last week.

So he braced himself and began to carefully push the material around and eventually dug his hand into the bottom. _There_. Something smooth. He tugged it out excitedly to see what it was and gasped at his find. Panties. _Clearly_ panties.

These were red satin with a patch of black lace on either side. A small silver bow was at the top center with side strings holding the front and back together -- the back being made of satin, too. No lace patches. Fuck. They were so beautiful. Dallon had never seen anything like them except maybe in a Frederick’s or something. Then it suddenly clicked that these were in _Brendon’s_ bag and Brendon had probably _worn_ these. Holy _shit_.

There were no other panties in the bag, but he did find some sheer hose balled up between a few Mormon camp shirts. He unraveled them and drew his thumb along the seam, imaging what they’d feel against his skin.

It sent a perverse thrill up his spine when he realized he didn’t _have_ to imagine. Dallon was _alone_. He could do whatever he damned well pleased.

And maybe it was a little weird to not only go through his bandmate’s stuff but then _wear_ said stuff, but they seemed pretty clean and Dallon was only going to try them on for a minute or two. Really.

Licking his lips nervously, Dallon stood and pulled his shirt and jeans off -- along with his briefs and socks. The air conditioner pumping through the bus made his exposed skin prickle, but he didn’t let it bother him as he grabbed up the panties.

Before he put them on he got lost in admiring them for a minute or two. He’d always wanted to try on a few of Breezy’s things, but Dallon knew he’d get spanked so hard for stretching out her panties. And it was a bit awkward to ask your girlfriend to go out and buy appropriate fitting lingerie.

He thought Brendon and him were about the same size though, and this proved true when the waistband snapped snugly against his hips. He looked down breathlessly at the dark red against his skin -- at the shock of black lace. His cock quickly began to fill at the smooth sensation of satin against him, and, okay, maybe....Maybe he should take them off now. Now would be a good time.

Yet he felt himself hesitating to take them off. It just felt so _good_. His balls were trapped deliciously against him, and he could already feel his hardening cock trying to snake through one of the leg holes. “ _Fuck_ ,” Dallon breathed, cupping his bulge wonderingly.

That didn’t help in his decision to take them off anytime soon to say the least.

“Mother _fucker_! I knew you weren’t sick! What the fuck are you doing you asshole?!” Dallon jumped about twenty feet in the air and tried not to have a heart attack -- Brendon. _Brendon._. Of _course_ Brendon would be the one to come back and check on him despite the threat of having to listen to severe diarrhea.

“Brendon this isn’t....I...” Dallon didn’t know how to phrase ‘ _I wanted to see what you were hiding and then indulge myself in trying on what I found’_ very delicately so he tried another approach. “I think it’s kinda awesome.” Oh. Great, Dallon. That’s just....That’s just excellent. _It’s so cool you have sexy panties. Here. Let me put them on without asking_.

“Dude, those are....” Brendon flushed and looked down, shifting. “Those are Sarah’s. You shouldn’t have them on..........She’d....She’d be really pissed. That’s creepy.” Dallon stared at Brendon incredulously.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but my waist is twice as big as your girlfriend’s.”

“So?” Brendon hissed.

“These fit me fine.” Brendon looked ready to spit and balled his fists at his sides, face glowing a red that almost matched the satin of the panties. “It’s not weird, Bren.”

“They’re not....” Brendon crossed his arms and tried to curl in on himself, closing his eyes. “Dallon, they’re not....mine or...” Dallon grew tired of Brendon’s pathetic excuses and grabbed Brendon by the waist, flinging him into Ian’s bunk. It was just the right height for what he planned to do. Brendon tried to quickly get back up but Dallon held him down. “Let me _up_ ,” Brendon huffed, kicking his feet angrily.

“No,” Dallon replied easily, stripping off Brendon’s shoes and jeans. After he got his briefs off he picked up the panty hose and winded them thoughtfully through his fingers. “Let’s see what you look like in some of your secret wardrobe, huh?” Brendon turned an even deeper red if that was possible, and Dallon’s cock twitched eagerly inside of the panties as Brendon’s breath grew shallow. Brendon twisted angrily away as Dallon tried to slip the first leg on, but after he gave him a solid smack on the thigh in rebuttal he held still.

“I swear they’re not mine,” Brendon whispered. “I wouldn’t....Wouldn’t...” Dallon managed to roll them all the way up and didn’t bother to move Brendon’s cock from where it was held tightly against his stomach. No doubt the fabric was digging into him, but Dallon was more interested in other things.

Placing a knee on either side of Brendon’s hips, Dallon lowered himself till their cocks were pushed together. The satin alone was absolutely exhilarating, but the small twitch of Brendon’s hips upward made the fabric shift fucking _deliciously_ against him. He almost came right then from the sensations that seemed to shake him to the core.

It was easy to push Brendon’s arms up over his head and capture his wrists in his hand. Brendon just looked so _good_ like this -- pinned under him, wrapped in black stockings from the waist down, flushed red with embarrassment and shame at having his secret revealed. Even better was how Brendon bit into his lip and wriggled helplessly in a weak effort to pull away. God, it was perfect.

Dallon kissed along his jaw as he began to rock his hips down steadily. Brendon made this high noise of surprise and discomfort as his cock began to harden, tightening the hose where it was halfway up his dick. “ _Dallon_ ,” Brendon whimpered, fighting the hold Dallon had on his wrist. “Dallon you gotta stop. I gotta...”

“What?” Dallon encouraged, grinding more than rocking now. His cock had completely pushed through the leg hole and ached painfully at the angle, but he wasn’t about to stop. “I know you love this Brendon. I can feel it.” He dragged his lips across the heated, crimson slope of Brendon’s cheek and lazily pressed their lips together. “See it.”

“Let me up,” Brendon gasped, struggling with a bit more purpose. “Oh god. Let me up. Dallon, _let me up_.”

“Or what?” he teased, shoving Brendon’s wrists down into the mattress. “What’re you gonna do, Bren? Call Sarah? Tell on me?”

“That’s not --” Brendon let out a choked off noise, and Dallon felt a hot tug of arousal low in his stomach as Brendon began to quiver. “That’s not it. Dallon I’ve gotta....Oh god. I can’t -- I can’t hold it. Oh _god_ ,” Brendon moaned, hips rocking up wildly into his. “Can’t hold it. Can’t --” Brendon let out this wild, uninhibited noise in his ear, and Dallon realized that maybe Brendon wasn’t done surprising him for the night. “Dallon, Dallon, _Dallon_ ,” Brendon chanted, continuing to try and pull his wrists free.

“Fuck, are you --” The question was answered when he felt a warm gush between them, and he pulled up a little to make sure he hadn’t gone completely crazy. Sure enough, Brendon was pissing like mad -- right onto his stomach where the hose was holding his cock up.

Dallon probably should have backed off a little. Let Brendon clean himself up and forget this entire thing ever happened. But instead he reached out and shoved Brendon’s cock deep into the silk hosiery, feeling himself nearly bust it right then as Brendon let out this filthy, desperate cry. Finally Dallon had to let Brendon’s wrists go if only to palm at himself as Brendon squeezed his thighs together, trying to hold the intense flow back.

Forcing Brendon’s thighs back open, Dallon saw the piss easily begin to overflow the thin silk, spilling out onto Ian’s bunk. It was unbelievably warm and Dallon found himself grinding his crotch into it, soaking the panties a little in the process. Whatever. They would wash.

For now he focused on the broken noises Brendon kept letting out, and the way he looked ready to completely fall apart underneath him, curling his fingers into the sheets as the piss spurted out of him in what appeared to be a satisfying way. From what Dallon could tell Brendon had been holding it for _hours_ \-- not surprising seeing as Brendon had a tendency to forget to go. He kept bouncing around right until he had to literally run to the bathroom.

Once the flow had started to trickle off Dallon felt himself pulling Brendon’s legs open wider, and he shifted his knees between them. It was a bit easier to rub himself up against the warm wetness Brendon had just provided, and he tossed his head back wantonly. Brendon squirmed and mewled underneath him, and Dallon leaned down and dragged his tongue through the puddle on Brendon’s stomach. He moaned as Brendon fisted a hand in his hair and tugged it, digging his fingers into his shoulder with the other. “Dallon, I gotta....I can’t....” Dallon couldn’t either for that matter and found himself pulling Brendon straight off the bed by his hips.

Once his crotch was comfortably face level Dallon sucked hard on the ruined silk, pulling it between his teeth before he let it wetly pop back in place. Brendon was loud enough in response that he felt bad for anyone standing outside the bus. It was hard to keep this position seeing as his knees kept slipping in the piss soaking Ian’s sheets, but Brendon helpfully had his legs wrapped around his neck.

Laving his tongue over the outline of Brendon’s cock, Dallon wondered what the silk felt like as he did this -- wondered if it was as good as the satin against his own dick. Wondered if that sharp tingle in his balls would be even sweeter in the piss soaked silk, and Dallon found himself desperate to have Brendon do this to him soon. He’d go completely out of his mind thinking about it. This was the hottest thing he’d done in _months_ \-- fuck, maybe his entire _life_.

Dallon tugged Brendon’s cock free of the fabric and sucked the tip in, tonguing the slit. Brendon moaned and hunched his hips urgently, panting and slapping the bunk wall. “ _Dallon_! Gonna....Gonna come....Oh.... _Oh_...Gonna come. Fuck. _Fuck!_ ” He screamed and twisted in Dallon’s grip wildly for a moment, and Dallon swallowed every drop of Brendon’s come, feeling his cock jerk in the panties as he felt a good three or four loads slap against the back of his throat.

Dropping Brendon onto the ruined mattress, Dallon grabbed his cock through the satin and fisted it around his shaft, grabbing the top of the bunk to keep himself upright. Brendon was splayed out in front of him, a complete fucking wreck of a boy -- cheeks flushed in afterglow, soaked in piss, destroyed pantyhose just barely encasing his still quivering thighs.

Within seconds Dallon found himself spilling in the panties, and he shook as the warm sensation flooded the fabric -- gasping as he wondered if pissing them would feel just as good. He collapsed uselessly on top of Brendon after the last of the orgasmic shocks died down, and he tried to catch his breath frantically against Brendon’s neck. “Fuck....” Brendon gasped in his hair. “Fuck, _Dallon_.”

“That was so good,” Dallon whispered shakily, pushing his lips up against Brendon’s. Brendon kissed back for only the briefest of seconds before resting their sweat drenched foreheads against one another, and Dallon could barely handle how beautiful he was this close up.

“No...Yes...Well...” Brendon cleared his throat and rolled his head away. “Ian. This is....This his bunk.”

“He can clean it up then,” Dallon mused, not being able to help touching the mess on Brendon’s stomach. Still warm. Brendon gave him a dark look in return, but the deep laugh that followed gave him every indication that Brendon completely and wholeheartedly agreed with Dallon’s suggestion.

“So you’ve seen him --” Brendon pulled his fist up to his nose and sniffed, making a ridiculous face.

“More than once,” Dallon supplied, running his hand up Brendon’s chest to pull on his nipples. Brendon batted his hand away and swallowed loud enough for Dallon to hear. “He’s done it with with Spencer’s, too.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Brendon moaned, tossing an arm over his eyes. “We’re all so fucked up...I can’t believe I just....”

“It was hot,” Dallon said truthfully and kissed up Brendon’s arm, wanting to reach his lips. “So fucking hot. And you trying to pawn off these panties on Sarah. Like she’d ever wear something so tacky.”

“How would you know?” Brendon grumbled. “And they’re not _tacky_.” Dallon finally managed to pull Brendon’s arms down and get his mouth again, spending a long few seconds fucking his tongue into his mouth.

“Because,” Dallon whispered. “Breezy’s told me.” Brendon stared at him incredulously before he jumped at the sound of the bus door.

“Guys? What the fuck are you doing?” Dallon smirked at their sudden good fortune.

It was Ian.  



End file.
